Katipo

101 Bondi Road, Bondi
Monday-Friday, 6.30pm-5pm; Saturday-Sunday, 8am-5pm**

I totally dig this place. With a spade.
Katipo is just the type of place that you can chill out at for hours (we did), appreciate the bohemian-style atmosphere (we did this, also), and nibble on some food as you please (yep, did that one too!). And, as a side note, this café's name is that of the species of New Zealandish spider (it's apparently run by a couple of Kiwi's) that is 'non-aggressive' and lives under logs. How cute! No seriously...most of the staff wear t-shirts that have darling little spiders hanging over their shoulders. I want one!
The coffee. It is Artecaffe. A pleasant and smooth blend, definitely one of the better ones around Sydney. The milk they did here was pretty good too. If I sound a little hesitant, it's only because I have awesome coffee a great deal closer to me. Thank you inner city!!
The food. From what I can tell, it's somewhat Spanish-inspired, the modern classics have a different twist to them; that which doesn't pertain to the typical, albeit enjoyable, bourgeois 'twist' that most cafés are employing at the present. We, with our great love for all plates mezze and antipasto, decided to get the the mezze described, by the personality of a blackboard, as: "Grilled haloumi, olives, capers, dolmades, dips, spreads, breads & a general plethora of Greekness". How the hell could we not?!? The dips and spreads that came was a really nice and garlicky tzatziki, a strange but oddly addictive nutty one that we couldn't quite work out the ingredients within (mayhaps it was a mixture of humousness and peanuts and something...else?), and a deliciously good eggplant (or a variation on the theme of baba ghanoush). Oh. Man. So gorram good with toasted Turkish bread. Not being one for capers or olives I reminded myself that we need to bring someone to throw these goodies at, occasionally. The halloumi was subtle in its flavourings, and bought an essential goodness to the platter, as did the tasty Greek salad. One can not ever go wrong with that. The dolmades, however, were a treat to be truly savoured. Now, being the lover of all things Mediterranean, I have had quite a few in my lifetime made by various professionals, usually in the form of grandmothers. But these were godly. The vine leaves were perfectly firm and held the smooth texture of the rice, infused with smatterings of finely-chopped cooked red pepper and various spices, to a veritable bursting point. Honestly, it was probably one of the finer ones I have yet to enjoy.
And so it's eclectic and filled with collectibles from by-gone eras, it's laid-back, and it uses ingredients of which I greatly approve. It's a café that I have developed quite a crush on (I really like it but true love has yet to develop - perhaps when we see each other a bit more that will happen). Maybe I should move to Bondi...
**Rumours abound that this place is actually open for dinner now, but this has, as yet, not been confirmed with mine own eyes. Ah, excuses to go back...

It's refreshing to come across a café that gets it. Although I can't expect all café owners to be café whores like I am, surely they could visit a couple of exemplars to get an idea of what works and what doesn't? As soon as you walk in the door, you get a smattering of all the things that make for a great café.

Personality! Deliciosity! Passion!
Although I could be accused of bias, having grown up in NZ, this café oozes personality. With photos, knick knacks and odd pieces of furniture arranged into separate zones of hanging-out, it somehow manages to be immediately groovy and comfortable, something that a lot of cafés seem to aim for and miss horribly. We sat for a long, long time, enjoying a lazy weekend day in a café that seemed to be genuinely wanting to facilitate its customers. Students turned up with study materials ready, others just for a bite to eat and a chat with the staff. There's a wonderful atmosphere to the place, a welcome retreat from the rather stark and bare surroundings.
The coffee here is good. very good. However, it's not a espresso speciality café, such as the likes of Campos, Mecca and Single Origin, and shouldn't be judged as such. They make very good, smooth coffee with passion and dedication, and obviously pride themselves on making a good cup. The food here is likewise impressive, showing a willingness to deliver some delicious treats that venture a little bit further than that eggs and bacon fare that quickly become dull. They do about 3 different plates of pick-at-it, share-y goodness, which is always a huge huge point of approval, and the Mezze plate that arrived did not disappointment. Everything was in portions of good size, the dips were tasty as all hell!
You get a sense that they care about the details, nothing they served seemed to be content to reproduce the stock standard café fare, but rather strived for more. This passion is important, because it directly relates to the amount of delicious in your mouth, for less moolah. It also seems to equate to great service, which is what we received. I was relieved that we weren't shooed out for staying too long, but in retrospect it feels like the sort of café that would rather turn away customers than hurry someone enjoying the time at the café.
I really like this place. I also live nowhere near it. The coffee, nor the food, make it worth the hour or so it would take me to get there. But I would kill to have a local café this good. I think I'll go back soon, just to show my appreciation for its existence.

Big Brekky

336 Stanmore Road, Petersham
Wednesday-Friday, 8:30am-3pm; Saturday, 9am-3pm; Sunday, 9am-2pm

Honestly, the innocence and playfulness of childhood still resides a little in all of us. Just ask Peter Combe. Simple concepts, bold colours, and a tendency for asking for everything to be mega-sized dominates not only the minds of human cubs but also the notion behind this café.
I really like the space created. The décor sets the atmosphere with the familiarity of kindergarten and the sophistication of a modern home's reach between comfortable and classy. A big communal table with a giant bowl of lemons sits in the middle of the naturally lit room, creating a nice feel of...communism. Right? Audacious tones and dark shiny wooden floorboards always win the way to my strictly pleased-only-with-aesthetics heart. And how can you not like multi-pastel-coloured bookcases?
The food amounts to huge proportions. They were not lying when they said it was big. Brekky. Man. I was pretty full! After some deliberation we chose to go with - sharing, of course, to get maximum tasteage of the foodoir - 'Big Brekky' (how could we not?), which consisted of toasted sourdough, grilled mushrooms, crispy bacon, poached eggs, and a pesto consisting, from what I remember, of parsley and parmesan; as well as the the two oversized Portobello mushrooms with garlic and balsamic vinegar which were grilled with spinach, gruyere, and parmesan. A classic choice, on both accounts, I rather thought. I think that any further description of the 'Big Brekky' would be unnecessary. Surely, you can see the tastiness from my perfectly-crafted camera shot. Or perhaps not. But, needless to say it looks grand and it tasted awesomely so. The mushrooms, though, were delightfully rich; the cheese compensating for completely overloading the system with a severe bout of sensory explosion, dulling down the intensity with the less vibrant tastes of dairy, in the forms of gruyere and parmesan, and vegetable ,in the form of deliciously firm spinach.
The only qualm I had about this place was the service. Pleasant wait-staff but we were made to wait over an hour for our meal which, suffice to say, left a bad taste in our mouths. It may be severe to dish out my anger (oh!...such Wrath!) primarily over this place but it seems that in Sydney there is a strong tendency to focus only on the products served when running a foodhaus. I have a big thing with service. We are so gorram privileged with the selection of joints to eat at that it seems as though if a place doesn't satisfy all the criteria to the utmost degree it will eventually wither and die. Not to be harsh...or anything. I don't know what happened that morning, whether it was a lost order, where we were sitting (although it was pretty damn prominent), or that we looked...like we wanted to have a really long conversation, but I am inclined to give them the benefit of the doubt. Sort of. [/rant]

Nevertheless, it would have reached the status of some sort of perfection if it weren't for the. . . delay. Nevermind. I guess. Maybe after I have exhausted Sydney of her breakfast options I will be more inclined to check back in. Knowing me, it will probably be sooner than that.

Big Brekky is self-explanatory. This poses a problem when attempting to put together a post that avoids being redundant and not existing.

The funky interior, and the lively atmosphere set the tone for the place nicely. A strange colour scheme, and odd bits and pieces lying around immediately made me feel at home, despite the fact that I've always lived in houses that were far more drab. There's a hustle and bustle to the place which communicates to the atmosphere of the place, fitting with the down-to-earth food and service that they offer.
After spotting a cappuccino that was noticeably unnatural in its lumpiness (seriously, a barista should never end up with something that looks like this), all thoughts of ordering a coffee were immediately erased in my mind. We are both boring and gluttonous, so the "Big Brekky" was an easy choice, while the Portobello mushrooms were the result of our predilection for the taste of a fun-guy (GET IT?!) (On a serious note: I'm sorry about that. Really.)
Both turned out to be delicious, and given to us in generous servings. The Big Brekky amply lived up to its name, while the Portobello mushrooms were so rich that they forced me into submission, unable to stomach it's flavour attack. I had no complaints with my food, being so delicious and filling, but I guess it's a sign of how spoilt I am that I noticed that I hadn't been knocked on my ass with the awesome of the food.
If we had been served on time, I would probably endorse this place. However, since I waited for along time, with little acknowledgement of their mistake, they go into the "I don't really see a reason to visit you guys again" camp. Even if the food was pretty damned good. They need to improve the coffee, in any case.

(I'm being constructive with my feedback!)

Espresso Galleria

84 Ramsay Street, Haberfield
Monday - Friday, 8am - 5.30pm; Saturday, 8am - 3pm

The coffee here is really good.
In a town where the men gossip-folk more than the women and the houses need development applications for changing the colour of one's letterbox, an 'outsider' setting up shop in such a tight-knit community fuels the next couple of month's debates and rapid hand-gesturing. Haberfield - or the 'Ach-Field as I like to call it (...not...really...) - is exactly like that. For a very traditionalist Italian suburb to afford a man with a Greek background the privilege of making their beloved espresso is certainly no mean feat achieved by that single dude. Imagine that.
And he is a dude! With an obvious passion for what he is doing, the roasts and blends he sells and uses reflect a modernity he is trying to bring to both the coffee and the area. The shots are amazingly consistent and, although relatively unflourished with grand flavours and flashes of enlightenment, provide the boldness required for the local consumers. I also really love the texture of the milk he does for my macchiato, both smooth and creamy but still light to taste. It's pretty, non? Shiny too...

The fact that he gets his mother (or perhaps his γιαγιά (grandmother)...I can't remember which) to bake delicious goods is a bonus. The baklava is very good, and very Greek. A subtle sweetness that still keeps the essential stickiness of the honey-water and crispiness of the pastry makes for an easy-to-love sweet. A nubbin (is that not the right word to use? is that rude?! ...nib? is nib better? anyone? anyone...bueller?) of clove infuses a sublime spiciness within its rectangular being. Although not pictured, the Turkish Delight I sampled here is also supreme. Again, very subtle flavourings and the rosewater is just the right intensity to complement the gorgeous viscosity of such. I would say it rivals Ya Habibi's (Newtown) very own version, of which currently stands as the best I have personally tasted (and also from my expert mother who travelled around and lived in the Middle East for some time in her halcyon days of youthdom). To be honest, all of Espresso Galleria's sweet-goods (and now apparently jams) look to be prize.

No, correct that. The coffee here is fantastic.

Located in the heart of what I'm beginning to think of as the definitive foodie suburb, Haberfield, Espresso Galleria represents a classic espresso bar, the kind of place that is about the coffee, first and foremost.
This small café is small, simple and minimalistic. There's no bacon and eggs here, no kitchen to speak of, merely a reasonable selection of delicious edibles such as a sumptuous Turkish delight, as well as uber-delicious home-made baklava. The service is quick and pleasant, and Emmanuel, the Barista and Owner, is a pleasure to watch at work. I'm a bit creepy in the way that I love to watch a quality barista at work, and Emmanuel is obviously a class act. He pulls short, well-balanced, espresso that lingers on the palate due to the dark richness of the blend. His milk is velvety smooth, and exactly the right temperature, and despite the fact that he does not indulge in latte art generally, his coffee leaves no room for complaint.

In other words, a classy espresso bar, aimed at a classy demographic. God, I love Haberfield sometimes.
He doesn't roast or blend himself, but every espresso I've had here has obviously been from fresh beans. He has beans available for sale, carefully chosen from two roasters that as far as I can tell, completely undisclosed. His coffee seems to err on the side of balance, which gives a smooth, milder espresso, but rarely seems to reach the highs of those such as Mecca, Campos or Single Origin. But, really, for where he is, and what he's doing, Emmanuel is doing a wonderful job. I think I've dropped in without fail, every time I've been in Haberfield. Doesn't hurt that Sulfaro's is across the road, either.

Campos

193 Missenden Road, Newtown
Monday - Friday, 7am to 4pm; Saturday, 8am to 5pm

*Sigh*
If only everyone could be as good as Campos. You're not, by the way. Do you consistently blow my mind? Do you actively worry about getting everything right for my approval? Do you provide a rich injection of adrenaline into my bloodstream (pre- and post-class, mind) whilst still providing the lightness of citrus-y undertones?

Mayhaps. But, more likely: no.
Campos in Newtown is the celebrity of coffee roasters in Sydney. Their increasing popularity does two of many things:
a/ renders them an untouchable-drop-all-your-other-gods-and/or-add-to-your-pantheon-now-deity-like status (that's usually reserved for lesser mortals), and
b/ means that average local café are starting to use their beans with their average barista skills are now pulling average shots +10. And that, by mine calculations, means that Sydney's coffee is improving by at least ~3.1415926%. On average.
In other words, there is a direct causal correlation between the existence of Campos and the increasing quality of coffee in this world.
In my world, at least.

The baristas are incredibly serious about what they are doing. The place is an espresso bar people...read: do not come here expecting a double mocha latte half-strength decaf with cream and red and purple sprinkles and a dusting of cinnamon sugar please". Because they will kick your sorry face out, back down the four stairs of entry, and into the grungy Newtown gutter. If you're lucky you will only fall onto a few used needles. No, treat them with the utmost respect they deserve and you will receive a hand-crafted shot almost every time. Each will be presented by a dude, often personally coming out from behind his machine, who glances at the expression on your face, after you've inspected, in an expectant and slightly crazed manner. Once set down on the high bar stools and tables they will most likely walk away, after an awkward silence and odd furtive glances (you don't like being watched whilst sipping the nectar of gods), and limp back to behind their tools of deliciousness clutching their burnt (steam wand) and crippled (tamp) hands.

Not really. Though, they are pretty distant and reserved. But, get a bad shot here and it's most likely your own fault.
This is constantly rated within the top three coffee joints in Sydney, and continues to charm local students, doctors, and the general kooks who abound who know how to live a good life. Even if you don't know what the hell you are talking about in the world of coffee, you will discern the noticeable difference of this paradise to all other hells on earth. It is, after all, what actual coffee is supposed to be.

I think I'll run out of positive adjectives and hyperbole in describing this place.

Campos is the benchmark that pretenders aspire to. They blend and roast their own coffee. They keep their machine perfectly tuned. They make sure that the beans are always fresh. The fact that they see this as the fundamentals to be maintained, while other cafés view it as a needless extravagance, shows the gulf in class that Campos represents.

They serve quality espresso. I've quibbled about coffees from Campos before, but mostly that's from having been served some absolutely incredible shots that surely require the stars to align. I've never had a bad coffee from Campos, and I never expect to. It gets incredibly busy, but instead of forcing the Barista to balance quality with speed precariously, as most would be expected to do, they simply scale the number of Baristas up. Coupled with how fantastic these Baristas are, it makes for a true espresso bar that seems to good to be true.
The whole place oozes style. Filled with coffee paraphernalia, from Vac Pots to and old roaster, playing some groovy jazz that skirts the line between class and muzak, The simple bare-bones nature of the place complimented by black and white photos of their coffee makes me feel like I've left the colourful, bustling city for a shrine to the espresso gods.

Campos fully deserves its stellar reputation, and that's surprising to me. It seems that they'll always be this good as long as the committed, and in all probability, obsessive management stay in charge. I have my reservations about the dilution of their brand through the distribution of their beans to Cafes with no where near the dedication, never mind the skills, but regardless, this small espresso bar represents a pilgrimage that anybody who remotely enjoys a good espresso in Sydney needs to make.
The service isn't the best. But I like to think that I'm beginning to be loved by them secretly, and they are hiding it in the name of barista professionalism.

Stand-offish? I like to think of it as Mystique.

I left Campos on a euphoric high today. Don't blame me if you become just another member of Espresso Addicts Anonymous. It's all worth it.

Artisan Focacceria

230 Palmer Street, Darlinghurst
Monday to Friday, 7:30am - 3:30pm; Saturdays, 8:30am - 3:00pm

It's strange that, despite my (what I thought was an) avoidance of 'Italian' food in Sydney, we have been predominately reviewing places which specialise in Italian cuisine. This is a problem and I now realise that my dislike for the said cuisine outside my own home is reasonably unfounded. The primary reason I resent having Italian food at restaurants or cafés other than those I trust is the blatant disregard for authenticity. Too much, in this town, is a toasted sandwich deemed a "focaccia", packet spaghetti and melted Kraft cheese termed "fettucine carbonara", and Dominoes seen as a "pizza". Urgh. Many so-called 'cooks' lie and cheat.

So I thank the merry immortals that places like Artisan Focacceria exist. This is what every food house should be aiming to be. No exceptions. I have learnt, say, within the past couple of years, that anything with the word 'artisan' somewhere in their name or slogan (I am looking at you Sonoma, you bewitching bastards) will probably transcend anything you've ever known.
The authenticity part probably comes down to the fact that the owners are actually Italian. This helps! Despite the enticing menu that reaches from floor to ceiling we shall start with the cawfee. This place has apparently been the stepping stone to many great baristas that abound in Sydney. The coffee here is somewhat of the fantastic. Do not deny! A smooth blend coupled with baristas who know what they want from their shots, I can totally deal with having my macchiato here.
Now: the foccacias of artisanery. Are these people actually serious?! Home-made salami, artichoke, shaved parmesan, vine-ripened tomato, provolone, basil mayonnaise, asiago, baby spinach, olives, crumbed chicken breast, prosciutto, and home-preserved eggplant. If any of these ingredients sound good in combination on some fun-lovin' foccacia then you must come here. Note that the fillings can also be chosen to come wrapped in Turkish bread and panini at request. They usually have recommendations for which breadness for what ripieno, and the Panini con Zucca e Ricotta - read: roasted pumpkin, ricotta, figs and walnuts - goes perfectly with the sourdough roll it is paired with. Mmm. Figs. With all this said and done, the Foccacia con Maile is the absolute stand-out for me. Slow roasted shoulder of pork, rocket, lemon and green chilli. Need I say more?! By the amount I told of the rave party in my mouth with each bite of this incredible concoction, a friend of the vegetarian kind who accompanied us even had to have one (maybe even two?!) bite/s to try. I think even she was slightly saddened by her practical ethics long lived by with the taste of nectar so sweet...

I am sure that there is some sort of religion behind this place and I am willing and ready to join.


Edit: Excuse the quality of the photos posted. I think I may have been a little excited about the eating of this goodness and subsequently got a severe bout of 'shivering with anticipation'. You people must understand how hard it is to get decent camera shots for this blag whilst:
a/ not looking like a completely obsessed fool (probably too late with the face);
b/ not totally forgetting that devouring edibles before shots doesn't really work for visuals on a food blog; and,
c/ not passing out from the utter insanity of some foodhouses and the willingness to (often) kill for the comestibles they serve.
Just sayin'.

Some things are hard to take seriously. For instance, a virtuoso kazoo-ist. Or perhaps, the world champion of hop-scotch. Some things are so simple that it seems impossible to take it seriously.

Artisan Focacceria take something very simple, very seriously. A sandwich. You take two pieces of bread, and you hold some stuff inside with said bread, so you can eat it conveniently. How hard could it be? More importantly, how good could it be?
Firstly, the coffee here is excellent. Using the better-than-solid Di Lorenzo, the only brand of coffee that has consistently signified a consistently better-than-average Barista as well as a high-quality blend, Artisan Focacceria make damned good coffee. Scott Callaghan and Jack Hanna are former employees, Barista champions both, as well as Alex Kum, now at Mecca Espresso. One of the few places where you can expect a better coffee.
But the focaccia? It's absurdly good. They use good bread, quality ingredients, and then offer them to you in traditional and creative combinations. My idea of a good sandwich have been altered irreparably by the green chilli and pork shoulder focaccia I tried there, and the other items on the menu have never disappointed. Satisfying, honest and delicious. It seems that in a perfect world, this would be the minimum quality that food would need to meet.
But we don't live in a perfect world. This place is exceptional. And mmm, sandwich times await you. You'll be forced to take it seriously, regardless of your scepticism. It certainly made a believer out of me.

Swerve

876 Military Road, Mosman
Monday - Friday, 6:30am to 5pm; Saturday, 7am to 5pm; Sunday, 8am to 5pm

Having refined my coffee palate at such places (which I will cover as to the reasons why this is so when we get around to doing an official write-up between regular visits) as Campos, Single Origin, Mecca, and Toby's Estate in Woolloomooloo, my expectations for a shot to reach even the 'good' stage are pretty damn high. Be warned: there are many varying degrees above even this level in my scaling system. It's complicated.

And this place oh-so-pleasantly surprised.

Although I had heard many a previous rant on how great the coffee could really be here, and particularly how the 'star' barista was nurtured and praised and nestled between his spat of Australian and international awards for latte art and other coffee-related competitions, I was still more than dubious. One has to be distrusting in such a world full of people who have no idea what they are doing to such precious commodities...like coffee beans.

The atmosphere of the joint did little to ease those fears. Decor: white, plasticky, sterile. The quick-superficial-glance cross-section of customers: anorexic-long-blonded-hair-little-gossipy-rich girls (sorry, I really come across as a lot more bitter than I actually am) or aging parents with 11 year-old children. Are these the people who truly have time to appreciate this coffee? Who knows. I make no judgements here. Service: non-existent. This could be a good sign - perhaps focus is centred on pulling fantastic shots as opposed to appeasing customer demands?

That's got to be it. Either that or the fact that they roast and blend their own beans, and to near a gorram perfection if you ask me. Or perhaps that Scott Callaghan is a dedicated barista who knows what the hell he is doing and takes his time and care with each and every coffee he makes.

Given all this, my shot was supreme. That's right, it reigned. Rich to the very core, it was the smallest shot in any macchiato I have ever had. The tiny dollop of milk slowly settling atop was stained by such a pure concentration of the roasted beans; this was a serious contender for 'best shot ever'. It was subtly complex but subdued enough to be really robust and full in it's flavour. No one can deny such euphoria.

As the area is one that I rarely have reason to frequent, unfortunately, this place will see very little of me. But if you are ever nearby please do check the coffee out here. That three bolla will seldom be better spent.

The problem with coffee is that there are so many vital components in crafting that perfect shot, the espresso that comes back to you in your dreams. However, you can be sure that where you find a barista who knows what they're doing, they will make sure to have the other components at their disposal.

Swerve is famous for its baristas. Scott Callaghan has won pretty much everything, and Luke seems to be no slouch either.

To be honest, I'm kind of obsessed. The first time I went, I was surprised to run across it, having heard of the café but completely unaware of where it was. Of course, I ventured inside for a coffee and I was impressed that Luke made sure to pull a double ristretto for a takeaway cup. I'm usually lucky to find a place who knows what a ristretto is. I must have come across kind of creepy: a small Asian guy watching every movement of the barista as he poured shots and milk, precisely and mechanically, trying to figure out how everything combined to produce the magic in each shot.

I admit it, that day I went back for another shot. And then made my friend get a latte.

This day though? The barista produced a shot that was great. They roast and blend their own coffee, a fucking good sign that they're serious about their coffee. It's a nice dark blend, chocolatey and earthy. Also, it makes me feel like my face is having an orgasm.
This isn't the greatest café ever. The food doesn't excite, the service is polite but stand-offish, and the café itself is cold and un-endearing. However, the coffee is absolutely top notch, and what else really matters for a coffee-geek like me?

It's really a shame that it's in a suburb that I have no reason to ever go to, other than maybe John's Bookshop. It's just nice to know that there are still places around that are serious about their coffee that I haven't really heard of.

The Tea Centre

"The Glasshouse", 146 Pitt Street Mall, Sydney

Monday-Friday, 9am-5:30pm; Thursday, 9am-8pm; Saturday, 10am-5pm, Sunday, Closed.

Tea is freaking awesome. How can a few dried leaves...oh noes, you can't question the tea!! IT JUST CAN OTAY!
This place is gorgeous. Tucked within a small 'mall' off Pitt Street, you could easily think that you walked into a shop in a small country town somewhere in the Southern Highlands. But you don't actually. Fitted out with beautiful mahogany shelves which are lined with assorted tin-boxed teas - both exotic and variations in quality and origin on the well-known - and a little balcony in one corner of the shop which houses extra tables for the café, it is like a dream. And thus you are surrounded by tea sets of all shapes and sizes: the traditional Turkish çay sets, colourful mis-matched saucers and cups, and individually designed Japanese wares. Even the individual teapots were incredible: among all the different ceramics and patterns there were Islamic jugs, tiny ones that resembled small mammal-like creatures, and a huge massive red one that would have held probably 12 or more cups. 'allo, 'allo, 'allo!

I felt like Alice.

So being a little lost one amongst such great leaves...I put my trust in a tea connoisseur in the form of a friend and went with Pacific Sun. WOW. It was gorgeous. I was dubious, at first because of the name, but was confident that my tea was easily the best out of all that was chosen, after my first sip. Apparently it is a Chinese black tea that is infused with tropical fruits and flowers including dried pieces of orange, mango and guava. Really naturally sweet and dark to look at. And as tasty as they come!^^

The other blends and origins sampled were rather of the nice, also. The popped corn and toasted rice was a surprising one! Goodness!

Conclusion: tea is a happy-maker!

Why is a cafe so wonderful hidden in a mall on Pitt St?

An absolutely incredible array of wonderful smelling teas, stacked on shelves greet you as you walk in, with a huge collection of beautiful teapots making this small café/store a beautiful sight. A few nondescript artworks and paintings give a nice cosy atmosphere, but of course the highlight are the Teas.
These people are hardcore. Single Origin teas from various parts of the world. Inventive and exciting blends. Cool teapots that (to me) look like little mice. The menu is incredible, with at least 30 or 40 different teas available. You have all your traditional teas, Oolongs, Green Teas as well as many speciality blends, one of which smelled exactly like lime marmalade. I was boring and went for a single origin Ceylon tea which was absolutely delightful.
Lets get this straight. I am a huge coffee geek, and this place has me raving about Tea? It's a special one, and worth searching out if you ever feel like some Tea in the city. The Glasshouse is surprisingly quiet, and a nice place to take a friend to talk over your tea of choice, whether it be Earl Grey, Russian Caravan, or a tea made out of toasted rice and popped corn!